Histories
by HouseFreak
Summary: [Not a play off the episode!] A short look into the pasts of the characters. Not as lame as it sounds.
1. Navy Brat

**A/N: **I've got bad writer's block with E-mail, but I know it's been a really long time since I updated and I wanted to get something out, if not that. Sorry for the long wait. That fountain in my brain is experiencing a drought. Dx

Hope you like this one anyway.

**Histories**

"Greg, hon, hurry up. The van's here!" her voice rang through the stark entryway and down the hall. "Wait, I'm not done yet!" the pubescent, cracking voice of 11-year-old (_almost 12_, he liked to remind people) Gregory House echoed back. His mother sighed, and made her way back down the hall to her son's room. She found him crouching over an open floorboard, sharpie in hand. "What are you doing?" she asked, though she knew already from the malicious smirk that it was something she wouldn't approve of. He turned around as she approached, trying to hide the black marker behind his back. His mother was clever, though, and turned his hands over (a thud, as the marker hit the floor), revealing a black streak from where he'd hit his hand while hiding it. She sighed again, holding out her hand for the marker. He acted innocent, shrugging and raising his eyebrows as if to say, 'who, me?'. She nodded, and he held out the marker, rolling his eyes. She took it and grabbed his hand, pulling him up. "Writing your name again?" she asked, hand on his shoulder, following him across the room. He nodded, feet trudging across the floor of the room of an apartment he couldn't really call home. Sometimes being a navy brat was a real pain.

She led him out to the van and to their little 4-passenger car, getting into the passenger's seat after making sure he got in. She looked back at him and, after lecturing him to put his seat belt on, smiled. "Where're we going this time?" he asked, pulling out a yo-yo and dropping it a few times, annoyed as it hit the seat and floor each time. "We'll find out when we get to the airport," his mother answered. "That's stupid," Greg said. His mom rolled her eyes. "Don't even get to buy our tickets until then," he said.

On the relatively short drive to the airport, he tried different ways of ravelling up the yo-yo, trying to see which ways were faster. He was pretty good with the tricks, those he could worry about when he was standing in the long ticket lines. Right now all he could do was wait and be bored. Too bad he didn't have any of his piano books in his carry-on. He had to remember to transfer them before the flight took off. There had been talk about basing his father overseas, and that was sure to be a long flight. What did they want with him, anyway? John House was definitely good with languages, but the foreigners (he scoffed; that term would be referred to him if the marines had there way) would quickly tire of his skeptical nature, especially when dealing with military matters. Greg rolled the yo-yo in his hands, impatient. He never sat still, even during the exams his mother put him through when the military-provided tutoring wasn't enough for his father. In kindergarten (back in Arizona, where temperatures were nothing like those here in Wisconsin), he had always been scolded for his restlessness. And in 3rd grade (his last year at that old shack of a school, thank God), his teacher even had the nerve to suggest he had ADD. That was when his mother decided to pull him out for homeschooling (and when he had to meet that retched lump of a boy that was his cousin). He had liked the idea at first; Greg was always an independent learner. But it soon got old when his father decided to start looking over his papers, correcting his mother's grading mistakes with a hard heart and a brown permanent marker. That marker haunted Greg, even when it was used just to write a 'CORRECT' across the top of his paper.

Once they got out of the car, got their bags checked in, and sat down in the ticket-purchasing lobby, his father's phone rang. "This is John." his stern voice made Greg shiver; he wasn't intimidated, just cold. "Yes," his father continued, "okay." Small silence. "Alright. Goodbye," there was an exausted tone to his voice when he hung up, one Greg rarely heard. The midmorning hustle and bustle of the airport was a rumble in Greg's ears, but he knew the look on his father's face, the exasperation. And he heard the next word that came out of his father's mouth as clear as day: "Egypt."

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**A/N: **Alright, that's it for chapter one. I'm gonna be late for school as it is, so I didn't have time for any betaing. The mistakes are mine; let's hope you can look past them. xD

Please R it would be awesome to come home from school and find reviews waiting for me. xP


	2. Caring, Sympathetic, and Handsome, too

**A/N: **Sorry, would've been up sooner if my mom hadn't stolen my laptop. Dx I wrote this one in algebra. xD I would think cell phones would be around by this time, but if not… eh, who cares. I'm going for entertainment, not accuracy.

**Chapter Two: Caring, Sympathetic and Handsome, Too**

"James, are you still there?" a giggly feminine voice said over the line. "'Course I am," James replied. She giggled again into the phone. Although he was barely 14, James Wilson was a handsome young boy with a voice that could make any girl swoon. The fact that he had the most caring, sympathetic nature of any guy in school made him all-the-more irresistible. His chestnut brown hair flopped into his eyes, and he pushed it out. "Hey," he said, "I gotta go. Movie's starting." "Really?" the girl asked, sighing overdramatically. "Yeah," James answered. He was well aware of the glares he was receiving from the people around him. He sent them an apologetic glance as the girl on the other line said, "Really really?" James sighed and said, "Yeah, sorry babe." She giggled again. "I love you James," she said, making a kissing noise into the phone. James's eyes widened for a moment before he regained his composure. "You too," he said uncertainly. _I thought I did… at one point, _he thought to himself. She giggled again and hung up. He clicked his phone shut, and heard the people around him mutter, "finally." He just settled back in his chair, feet up on the chair in front of him, and laced his fingers with those of the girl he was sitting next to.

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**A/N: **Yeah, it was short, but it looked bigger in my notebook. Dx Contrary to popular belief, no, this was not written from personal experience; more from the ditzy idiots I have to put up with daily. . 

Next up is Cuddy! -yay-


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